The
Artist’s yellow page
turned
blind
and
skewered the lullaby.
There
he awakens the chambers and
merry
slaves prostrate
but
dismayed,
their
white-collar competitors,
addicts
of the sinner’s page,
lose
their giggle at the taste of quicksand.
Their
condition—their end—will cement
while
the slaves play a lyre for
the
Artist.
